


Return

by CozyCryptidCorner



Category: Original Work, exophilia - Fandom
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Exophilia, Fluff, Gen, Kelpie - Freeform, date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 08:39:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18465403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CozyCryptidCorner/pseuds/CozyCryptidCorner
Summary: You come back, as you always do, to the Loch. Your lover awaits, arms open to hold your shivering body.





	Return

**Author's Note:**

> Second place of the raffle is Kiliakit, who asked for Kelpie fluff. I hope you all enjoy!

The shock of cold water always surprises you, no matter how many times you wade into the Loch, the near-freezing temperatures always catch you off guard. Goosebumps poke up from your flesh, the hair on your arms and legs stand on end as you take a step forward, interrupting the still calmness of the Loch’s surface with ripples. You wear nothing, skin bare and open to the elements, your clothes and towel discarded up on the smooth stones of the beach, teeth beginning to chatter as you find the water level up to your waist. You take a deep breath, steel your nerves, and dunk yourself under the water. Everything in your chest squeezes as your body violently reminds you that this is uncomfortable. After only a few seconds, you break through the surface, trying to keep from gasping as you wipe the water from your eyes.

 

There he is, standing just a pace from you, copper hair glinting in the hazy sunlight. Freckles smatter against his bare, pale skin, spots that you have longed to trace during your extended absence. It feels like your very being melts into the frigid lake as he smiles a sweet, lopsided grin of excitement. It only takes him a few strides to reach you, strong, warm arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you close, kissing the top of your head with a restrained kind of passion. “I’ve missed you,” his heavy accent breathes, “so, so much. Seeing you is like a relief that I can’t describe with words.”

 

You let out a giddy laugh, eyes pricking with tears as you bury your face into his chest. “I’ve missed you too, Eòin,” you murmur, letting his heat seep through your skin, “and I have a surprise. I think you’ll like it.”

 

Another kiss, this time on your forehead. “I think I will adore anything you could plan.”

 

“I’m staying this time.”

 

It takes a moment to register, Eòin’s gray crystalline eyes narrowing slightly as he processes the two words. Then, he lights up, only slightly, in fear he misunderstands your statement. “You- you are-”

 

“Staying. Here, with you, for however long as you want me to stay.”

 

“Forever.” He holds you tighter, almost squeezing the air out of you. “I want you to stay forever.”

 

“Then I will.”

 

“I will build you a house,” Eòin’s fingers brush across your face, “the most beautiful house you will ever lay eyes on. We can have a garden, for vegetables and the like. A kitchen! We might have to pay a bit for a woodstove, but it would keep you warm in the winter… Two bedrooms, perhaps?”

 

Laughter bubbles in your chest again, joyful, full. “Let’s have today’s date, love, then we can discuss a floor plan.”

 

Eòin kisses your mouth in a quick peck. “Of course, my darling.”

 

Everything is the same it’s always been, except this time it feels  _more_. Eòin holds your hand as he usually does, leading you out of the water and up onto land, only it feels more dreamlike, as if everything happens in an echo. You help him dress, he isn’t that skilled with clothes, and slip all of your things back on. Even fully covered, the chill of the water has soaked into your bones, and so as the two of you begin walking down the path, Eòin pulls you close, rubbing your arm.

 

There is a town nearby, one surrounding the mountain spring that feeds the lake. It’s been around for centuries, the name changing every couple of decades, growing, developing, adapting from one trade to another as time ticks on. Though its size has increased, people from cities would still label it as ‘quaint’ and ‘old fashioned,’ as its shops and houses all bear the carefully preserved architecture of a period long passed. Tourists from affluent backgrounds peruse the shops during the summer, searching for a reprieve from the southern heat, but your careful arrival happens just before the wave of people.

 

The pub is exactly how you remember, hanging lanterns flickering overhead, stools and tables scattered across the worn wooden floor. There aren’t too many patrons at this time in the day, which is the only reason you and Eòin chose this place initially all those years ago. While some of the furniture shuffles around throughout your visits, the little round table right by the window has always remained in the same spot. You learned once that the owner recognized you over time, reserving that seat around the time you visit for ‘the lovebirds.’

 

Below the table, Eòin has your hand still in an almost iron-like grip, as though you will fade away if he dares let go. One of the barmaids comes over, you recognize her wild mane of brown curls from the year before, and takes your order. Eòin orders something bloody enough to be borderline raw, while you get something more conservative with the knowledge that you can pick at the less meaty parts of his meal as you please.

 

“What color would you favor our room to be?” Eòin asks the moment the barmaid walks out of earshot, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

 

You think for a moment, wondering if your favorite color would do. Maybe not… Something bright? Simple? “I don’t know,” you admit, “I’d have to see the room first, I think, before we make a decision.” After a moment of thought, you giggle. “We should keep sheep. You know, for food and clothing.”

 

Eòin’s eyes light up. “That’s a good idea. I wouldn’t have to leave to hunt, the animals would just be there.”

 

“And the wool can be dyed and sold for money.”

 

The food comes a moment later, steaming wooden plates and bowls set down on the table. Eòin picks up the cheap tableware with the grace and poise of someone who only uses those tools once every year or so; i.e., with almost none at all. Still, you no longer have to coax him to use the knife to cut his meat into smaller bites, so he doesn’t draw any odd stares from the few other patrons of the pub, and that’s a long way from when he would tear into the carcasses of his prey.

 

Meals with him used to be stressful, you would admit, since you were always waiting for someone to point and scream,  _that thing is not a person._  But even with his weird, seemingly nonsensical manners, everyone seemed none the wiser. “Northerners,” one of the barmaids scoffed once, and that was the most grief you got. Above all else, Eòin is a quick learner and can mimic behavior from the people surrounding him without even realizing it, so while his actual motor skills could use some practice, he at least  _looks_  like he knows what he’s doing.

 

You leave the money for the meal on the table, leaving with Eòin to go peruse the shopping strip. Not that you usually buy anything, everything in the main strip is priced impossibly high for your wallet, but you and Eòin enjoy the window shopping. This time might be a little different since you are more inclined to look over the pottery sets and woodworking that the town is famous for. Kitchen tools, bowls, teapots, anything with an interesting pattern catches your eye. Eòin, as it turns out, has a good instinct for colors, muttering about how “x can go with y, but not z,” or “x can only go with y if we add z.”

 

Even though the two of you have walked down the streets of the shopping square before, this time feels more… domestic. Eòin’s fingers tangle with yours tightly, you don’t think anything could break his grip as you explore through the aisles of a pottery shop, looking over the variations of shapes and craftsmanship. One of the clerks asks you if you need any help.

 

“I’m just-”  _looking,_  you don’t finish, and instead say on a whim, “trying to find a good set for our kitchen.”

 

“Newlyweds?” The clerk asks, clearly excited on your behalf.

 

You glance at Eòin, throwing the ball in his court, so to say.

 

“Yes. Or-” he hesitates, “we will be, soon.”

 

The clerk claps his hands together. “Wonderful! You two are just adorable together, if you don’t mind me saying. Where is this house going to be?”

 

“Oh,” you try to sound dismissive, knowing the stigma around the Loch. “We’re going to be setting up on the land my better half’s family owns, in the outskirts of the- uh, next town over. Somewhere quiet.”

 

“So you’re locals of Greenvally?” The clerk arches his eyebrows. “In that case, all the prices are discounted  _rigorously._  Tourists with the wallets can afford the higher coin, you know, but the two of you seem to know hardship. Please, let me show you one of the new patterns my daughter has come up with.”

 

With the prices knocked down to something more in your price range, you look over the pieces with a more critical eye. If you don’t spend much more for the rest of the month, then you might be able to manage to afford a four-person table set. Eòin’s hand squeezes yours in encouragement. After making mental notes about what you like and don’t, you leave the store, promising to return once the kitchen is actually built.

 

By the time the two of you stumble out of the town, giggling like school children over some long-used inside joke, the horizon dims as the sun is swallowed by the rocky plains. Mist rises from the ground, churning around your ankles as you and Eòin walk beyond the town’s welcome sign, moving to where no sane soul would dare wander as a chill begins to overtake the land. The two of you are always careful about where and when he changes, witnesses could destroy everything you have carefully hidden. So far, no one has strayed far from the town after dark.

 

Eòin’s horse form is lithe, smaller than the workhorses that you see clopping through the fields, but faster than any racer you have ever laid eyes on. By the end of the day, you are always tired, almost too tired to walk back to the lake, so once he shyly offered to carry you on his back. Without even an ounce of hesitation, you agreed, and that’s when you think it clicked in him. You’ve told him before in passing that you love him, but you don’t believe he actually believed that you really trusted him until then. From that day forward, it’s become a tradition of sorts for you to hop up on his back, letting him carry you back to the shore of the Loch.

 

Though you brought a blanket, and though Eòin is about a hot as a burning wood stove, sleeping outside in the dark is something you can only handle in limited quantities. That’s not to say it isn’t pleasurable in the slightest, because it is, you’re just happy that there are plans to build a warm house with an actual bed. He takes his clothes off as you lay the wide, thick blanket over the spot you always pick for the night, then lay up against him, his chest serving as your pillow. His fingers reach up, running over your scalp as you stare up at the clouds, hoping they might part for just a moment so you can see the stars.

 

“Remember how we met?” Eòin asks quietly.

 

You place your palm on his shoulder, fingers following the path of his collarbone. “I remember that you weren’t quite the gentleman you are now.”

 

He grimaces, you can feel the movement of his body as he cringes at the memory. “I apologize now, and will a thousand more times, love.”

 

“You were scared, Eòin.” You stroke his skin, tracing the sunspots by memory in the pitch black of night. “I hardly blame you.”

 

He hums, straining for a moment to kiss the top of your head. “I am the luckiest beast alive to have you.”

 

You smile in the darkness. “And don’t you forget it.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Youtuber voice* If you liked what you read, smash that kudos button! Want to tell me how much you liked this fic? Leave me a comment! Want to keep tabs on my writings? Subscribe and you get a free (yes, FREE) email every time I publish a fic! Want me to write more? Shower me with praise because positive reinforcement motivates me to work!


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